Weightless
by inane-rational
Summary: Merlin has fallen under a spell. Arthur and Gwaine attempt to wake him. Arthur/Merlin, Gwaine/Merlin


**Beta'd** by kathkin (LJ)

**Rating**: R

**Pairing**: Arthur/Merlin, Gwaine/Merlin

**Notes**: Written for writing challenge community. Challenge 7, Sleep.

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><p>Arthur and his entourage of knights arrive back from patrol to pandemonium. He and Gwaine look at each other worriedly upon the king's summon.<p>

Several people have fallen asleep, much like when Morgana was taken away by Morgause, except this time it's localized.

"Find out who's responsible."

_Merlin was the first to fall, never waking from his bed, others following soon after. Everyone slept, peacefully, deeply, and never woke. _

_They dreamed._

Gwaine and Arthur briskly delve into the problem, drawing lines on a crude map of the castle, and finding the physician's quarters to be the very center of the spell. Gwaine's guts squirm in trepidation, because with Gaius standing across from them, Merlin's the only person in that room. Merlin's at the heart of the enchantment.

_Merlin was a non-existent weight within the waves. The water rocks and rolls him with its motions, and Merlin finds ecstasy in its simplicity. Merlin breathed in the water like it was air, steady intakes that wash through his body as the pleasure between his legs rises with the ocean's intensifying current. Did Gwaine's travels reach the oceans? Would he smell and taste of salt? _

They keep their investigation quiet, hidden from the rest of the knights. Arthur scours through Geoffrey's library with Gwaine's help, neither of them familiar with books or the answer that sat at the tip of their tongues, but unwilling to let it spill out.

_He's a falcon that obeys the flow of the summer winds. The air wraps around him, lightly caressing each individual feather, and he finds heaven in its simplicity. He flies upwards with each beat of his wings before slowly gliding downwards. The pleasure down low rises with the summer wind's increasing current. Will Arthur rule Camelot like the strong malleable winds? Would he spare his warmth to the lowly citizens?_

Merlin and magic.

Gwaine never had to confront it like he does now, and he has the inkling that Arthur's hunch mirrors his. They try not to meet each other's gaze and connect the similar lines of thoughts in their heads, because the suspicions of two people are more damning than those of one.

They still avoid it as they ride out, wandering aimlessly through the forest, searching but guided by nothing more than their desires, and hindered by their fears – but not fears of Merlin.

Never him.

When they find the camp in a cave, they are greeted with serenity. "We've been expecting you?"

_ Merlin lays on a rocky shore half out of the water, panting from the feel of the cool water and warm air. His magic pushes at the water. His magic blows up the air. The water laps back. The wind is undeterred. He shivers and spreads himself out, opening himself up to everything. He sucks in the warm summer wind, and licks the drops of salty water on his damp skin._

The use of magic is punishable by death, but Arthur and Gwaine need to carry Merlin out of Camelot without falling under the spell into an endless sleep.

Arthur knows Gwaine is watching carefully so Merlin doesn't fall of his saddle as they travel to a lake hidden deep in the woods. Arthur repeats the ritual in his head, exactly as the druids told him and Gwaine to perform. He can hear Gwaine mutter the words under his breath.

They undress themselves, unworried about propriety, before stripping Merlin and carrying him into the lake. They ignore the cold of the water and continue until the water reaches their chests. Arthur makes sure they have a firm hold to keep Merlin afloat, nodding to Gwaine that he's ready to begin.

They speak the words.

_It's comfortable on the rocky shore, even though the small jagged chips of rock should bite into his skin. Merlin doesn't feel any of it expect for the lapping of water that rocks him and the wind that caresses him. _

_He begins to feel warmer than he should, heat spreading throughout his body from his nether regions. A deep-seated pleasure ebbs into his soul, making him writhe and sweat. Merlin tries to expel it with every heaving breath he makes, as the pleasure reaches behind his eyes and muddies his head. _

_ His back curves when everything brightens to a blinding white._

Merlin's cradled on the shore between two bodies, too tired to care about their state of undress. It's better than the dreams. He likes it better when the heat is more than his own, with him resting on top of Arthur and Gwaine on top of him.

He tries to burrow both ways. "Arthur? Gwaine?"

"We're here for you." Arthur kisses the top of his head.

Gwaine plants a kiss on his cheek. "Always."


End file.
